


Give Me A Reason

by Incog_Ninja



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, Norman Reedus - Fandom, Real Person Fiction, norman reedus rpf
Genre: Breathplay, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, F/M, Hotel Sex, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Norman Reedus - Freeform, Norman Reedus / Orignal Character(s) - Freeform, POV Second Person, Rope Bondage, norman reedus - fandom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:06:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incog_Ninja/pseuds/Incog_Ninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daddy!kink and Norman Reedus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me A Reason

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nmbr1fanilow](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Nmbr1fanilow).



> Numbr1fanilow gave me the scene, Rhanon Brodie gave me the nod, and MsKathy gave me the red-pen. I give you Reedus with ropes and Daddy!kink, and a side of Portishead (if you're musically stimulated.)

You’re spread-eagle with your back to the mattress, and your arms and legs are tied to the bedposts. He looms above you, on his knees, between your wide-open thighs. The phrase bone-deep flashes in your mind with every hard and languid thrust because you feel it all the way to your bones. He’s deliberate and punishing; his hips are swaying, never from the same angle, but always excruciatingly good, and all you can do is take it.

 

“God…” You gasp for air because he took your words and breath away the second he showed you the rope.

 

He’s always told you that your responsiveness is like an aphrodisiac for him. That theory was proven today when you felt how fucking hard he was at your wide-eyes and thrilled sounds as he bound one wrist, then the other, and then your ankles, one by one, to the bed frame.

 

He dips his head and speaks low and quiet next to your ear. “I love having you like this.” His own breath is calm and controlled, but he isn’t fooling you. You can feel that he’s just as turned on as you are; your heartbeats match in time and your skin is slick and sliding against one another. “Open, supple…” He pulls your earlobe between his teeth before quickly releasing it. “Taking exactly what I give you, just the way I give it.”

 

He lifts his head up and away from your ear, and his palms flatten against the bed, his knuckles brushing your shoulder blades. Suddenly, but subtly, his rhythm shifts, and your mind can’t keep up. You’ve never felt so out-of-control and secure at the same time, and the sensation blows your mind.

 

You whimper and groan, and somehow your voice finds its way out of your body. “Fuck me, Daddy.” You gasp for air.

 

He immediately stills above you, his breath catching in his throat, and you want to take it back. Your mind starts to spiral down from where he hoisted you aloft this haze, where you were blissfully watching and feeling and dying over what he was doing to you.

 

He’s a statue, save for that long, thick throb of muscle, until he reaches down and wraps one hand underneath your quivering right thigh. Your eyes are drawn to the red letters tattooed inside his forearm then follow the tense band of muscle that runs toward and underneath the dragon just inside his bicep. His other hand slides along the soft cotton bedding to cup your ribcage, and his face is inches away from yours again.

  

“What did you say?” he breathes, and you watch a drop of sweat fall from the scruff of his jaw to your chest.

 

His breathing is coming in slow, labored puffs of air, fluffing his damp, wispy hair away from his face with every exhale. When you dare look into his eyes, they’re dangerously narrow and breaking down your moment of uncertainty.

 

“I'm sorry…” you whisper, not knowing if you're apologizing to your boyfriend right then, or if you should call him Sir. “It just came out. I know it's weird-”

 

You’re cut short from your rapid apology when you feel him slowly push forward, making your eyes close involuntarily from the increase in pressure. You see flashes of white and blue behind your lids and you can’t breathe. He’s so deep that you think you might see spots in your underwear later.

 

Then the breath you’re holding is finally forced from your lungs and you open your eyes to see him staring down at you like a hot, blue flame.

 

“Say it again,” he rasps and pulls slowly out of your body, but not all the way, before slamming back in.

 

Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you shout, “Yes, Daddy!” Then all the words come in a rush—everything you’re feeling and thinking.

 

Before your slip of the tongue, he was eerily in control of the scene. He's regained his composure, but now he’s practically giddy and flashing that elusive, playful grin, while he fucks you straight into the hotel’s 750-thread count sheets.

 

“Ah, _fuck_ , babygirl.” He keeps grinning as he kisses you, pulling at your lips with his, gripping your inner thigh and shoulder tighter to push himself upright again.

 

You arch your neck into his hand and his thumb dances lightly over your larynx. He wraps his hand around your throat and squeezes again. You’ll be lightheaded soon, and your thigh will be marked with finger-sized bruised, but the orgasm you’re about to have will be worth every bit.

 

“Please, Daddy,” you beg, your voice hoarse from the pressure, and you hear him tell you what a good girl you are before you feel yourself fly apart in a million-trillion pieces.

 


End file.
